


Saved

by kellyn1604



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark!Steve Rogers - Freeform, Explicit Smut, F/M, eventual kidnapping, non-con/dub con (non-violent)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:09:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kellyn1604/pseuds/kellyn1604
Summary: Summary- After “The Event” that claimed the lives of half the universe’s population, Steve Rogers searched to gain control of anything in his life. What he found was you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note- This will have 3 parts. Parts 1 and 2 will be mostly flashbacks. Parts 2 and 3 will have non-violent non-con/dub con smut. If this bothers you, please don’t read. Parts 2 & 3 should be longer. This is all reader’s pov and my first non-OC story.

Trees flashed by in your periphery as you tore through the forest, your dress torn from brambles and branches, not knowing where you were or where you were going. All you knew was you couldn’t stop.

* * *

You had stopped trying to make sense of anything after half the population disappeared, but still you couldn’t help but wonder why? Why you? You had lost everyone and everything in the blink of an eye, one of the many randomly saved by Thano’s “mercy.” But all his mercy had done was made you a target.

The world immediately following, had devolved into chaos. No one knew what had happened, for weeks society struggled to accept and adapt to the new world. Being a student living at home, you continued living in your parents’ home for months before the banks were able to restructure their businesses and gain control over their assets, hunting down property they owned and had not been properly paid for. You sold what you could before your eviction and moved the rest into a cozy efficiency apartment. School was no longer an option for you until you saved up some money, not that you had the same desires and goals that you once had. Everything was so confusing. Life seemed so precarious. All you wanted for the moment was a simple quiet existence. Taking a job at a deli, you made and delivered coffee and bagels by morning and sandwiches in the afternoon. That was how you met him.

The Avengers or what was left of them scrambled like everyone else after their defeat to try and bring peace to the turmoil and upheaval the world was tossed into. You delivered food at Avenger’s Tower a few times, never expecting to actually see one of the heroes that lived there. Finally one morning, you delivered 6 coffees and an assortment of breakfast pastries to front desk and saw him approaching.

“Sal’s Deli?” he asked.

You nodded. No words were able to form as you stood there staring dumbly into the eyes of Captain America. No longer the clean cut boy from Brooklyn, his beard and long dark honeyed locks made him look every bit the outlaw the government had tried to portray him as.

“How much do I owe you, Miss?”

You mumbled the amount aware of the warmth spreading across your cheeks as you watched his eyebrows raise at the price.

He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a worn leather wallet. His long fingers flipped through a series of bills before pulling out a fifty. You set the box holding all the food and drinks together on the front desk and reached for your bag to find his change.

His hand stilled your gently. “Keep the change.” He placed the fifty into her your hand and your heart fluttered at the small smile he gave you. You couldn’t believe the luck you had that day. Getting to meet Steve Rogers in person, and receiving a hefty tip in one trip.

You saw him a few times after that while making deliveries to the tower. He always tipped generously and always had a smile for you before taking his food and leaving. Soon after he came to the shop, sat at the counter wearing a hat and glasses trying to make conversation with you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him, it’s just what did you say to a man like that?

He began to pop up in the most unlikely places. It seemed every time you ventured out, you just happened to bump into him. He’d make small talk and you’d smile and seek a way out of the interaction. You didn’t want or need the pressure of someone as perfect as Captain America’s attention. It was too much. You started looking over your shoulder everywhere you went wondering if he was following you or if you were just crazy. It was so much easier to tell yourself you were crazy. But you weren’t.

* * *

Your bare feet ached, sides cramping, air struggled to fill your overtaxed lungs. You looked over your shoulder for any sign of him and searched the area for anywhere you could hide. You didn’t know how far behind he was, but you knew he was coming for you. Hunting you.

A large fallen tree was a few yards ahead, the thick tangle of roots reaching toward the sky with thick underbrush growing around created a shelter that might work. You ran with what strength you had left and crawled into the cover. Hugging your knees to your chest, you tried to calm your breathing. Your hands flew to your mouth as you heard sticks and leaves crunch under the unmistakable weight of boots. Tears filled your eyes when you heard the voice that had haunted you for weeks.

“Are you done running?” the low voice asked. “Because I could do this all day.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are getting firmly into the non-con/dub-con part of the story. That means non-consensual/dubious consent. If this bothers you at all, please don’t read. I decided to split this part into 2 parts. There will now be 4 parts total to this story. I didn’t originally intend to end this chapter here. This is all reader’s pov and my first non-OC story. New to the Marvel fic fandom so if you like it let me know with a comment! Thanks!

“Are you done running?” the low voice asked. “Because I could do this all day.”

You stayed where you were, willing yourself to disobey, something that had, increasingly, become more difficult during your captivity. You laid your forehead on your knees, squeezing your eyes shut, and recalled nights in your childhood when that was all it took to make the monsters in your nightmares disappear. Steve Rogers, however, was no ordinary monster.

“You’re already in a world of hurt, little girl. Are you coming out, or do I have to come get you?” His deep voice rumbled with anger.

Shivers ran down your spine, followed by shame as your body responded in ways you couldn’t comprehend, or maybe you just didn’t want to understand. Aching. Longing. Desire. And of course, fear. Tears flowed freely, how had you come to this?

* * *

Walking towards the subway one night after another uninteresting day at work, your thoughts wondered between what to eat for dinner and procuring a new job. It wasn’t that you didn’t like the deli. You did. You made ends meet most of the time. You got to take home goodies that were too old to sell yet still delicious. But it seemed that all you ever did any more was deliver to that damn tower.

It felt insane treating Captain America like he wasn’t the most beautiful man you had ever seen and an honest to God hero. But you had no desire to be swept up in that lifestyle, no matter how handsome and charming he was. He would forever be battling someone or something. Losing your parents had taught you to value the simple things in life. Nothing would ever be simple dating an Avenger. He could easily find a thousand other girls to fawn over him. Maybe a vocational change would finally give Steve, as he insisted you call him, the hint that you weren’t interested.

The sound of footsteps on the pavement alerted you to the presence of another person on the seemingly unbusy street. Your parents’ voices sounded in your head, reminding you to be alert and on your guard. Reaching in your purse for your pepper spray, you changed your pace as you had been taught to do. The footsteps adjusted theirs as well. You picked up the pace, panic permeating your body.

The subway was only a block away. There would be people there. Security cameras. Something to keep you safe. The beating of boots on the sidewalk still sounded behind you. Not daring to look over your shoulder, you broke into a run.  Unfortunately, so did they.

Your scream was muffled by a large hand as you were grabbed around the waist and pulled into an alley.  The pepper spray dropped to the ground. Scratching at the arms holding you, fumbling to land a kick, you were push up against a wall, pinning your arms to your chest. A stinging pinch in your neck was the last thing you remembered before everything went black.

                                              *******************

Head throbbing, a cold sweat broke out across your body as terror filled your veins. You tried to open your heavy eyes but couldn’t. Bandages were wrapped around your head, covering your eyes. You were lying on something soft. A pillow under your head. You tried to sit up and found yourself immobile. Your arms failed to lower from above you were they were secured. You choked on your screams as you realized you had been gagged.

“Shhhhhh.” A low voice came from left.

Instinctively, you turned your head to see who it came from but to no avail. You whimpered as a warm calloused finger brushed your cheek.

“You’re safe. No one will hurt you,” said the man.

No one would hurt you? You had been drugged, kidnapped, then tied to a bed. What else would a psycho do if not hurt you? The mattress dipped next to you. A large warm hand ran up your side. Your bare side. Where you even wearing clothes? Frantically, you started kicking your legs and pulling at the ropes binding your wrists, screaming at him through your gag. Your legs were easily caught and bound to what you assumed was a footboard. You were truly at his mercy now.

“That was unnecessary.” The voice, now stern, seemed familiar. If you could just focus you could remember. “I expect you to behave in the future. If you need some tough love to learn that lesson, that’s your choice.”

You heard heavy footsteps retreating, a door slam, and the unmistakable click of a lock. The gravity of your situation felt like you had been buried alive. Oxygen seemed out of your reach even though you felt your lungs laboring. Your heartbeat filled your ears with sound of pumping blood. You were trapped. Wracking sobs shook your body. Would anyone even notice you were missing? Would anyone be able to find you? For the first time, you wished Steve Rogers were here, wished you had accepted his flirtations; he would have found you and saved you. Maybe he still would.

You had no idea how long you laid there crying. Sometime during your grieving, you finally realized you felt a thin silky top and the elastic waist of loose shorts. Your body was a swirl of physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. Just as sleep seemed imminent, you heard someone approaching the room you were in. Tears you didn’t know you had left flowed into the saturated fabric covering your eyes. The lock turned and the hinges creaked as the door opened.

Ropes rubbed against your ankles as your captor freed your legs. You quickly drew them up, rolling to your side into a ball. Two thick arms lifted you into a seated position although your arms remained tethered. Fingers worked the knot on the back of your head that secured the cloth gagging your mouth before pulling it out. The dryness left behind was worse than any hangover you had suffered. You opened your mouth to talk but closed it the instant his hand cupped your jaw, turning your head away from his fingers.

“Drink,” he said.

The cold glass reached your lips. You parted them hesitantly, desperate for water but cringing at his touch. The water cooled your parched palate. The glass left, a trickle of water spilled from the corner of your mouth. His thumb was quick to brush it away.

Your hands, though still tied together, were detached from the wall or headboard that had anchored you in place. A tug on your wrists, signaled his desire for you to stand. You weren’t sure your legs could hold you. Another tug and you were lead slowly across the room. You heard a door open and light switch flick. Fingers tugged at the knots binding your hands together, freeing them. You were pushed forward, the floor changing from carpet to tile beneath your bare feet.

“You have 30 minutes. Use the restroom and shower.”

The door slammed shut and the lock clicking into place. Your hands reached up and untied the blind fold, removing the bandages that had been wrapped efficiently ensuring your blindness. You squinted as the light assaulted them for the first time in hours, days? You weren’t sure how long you had been there. Surely, not that long if this was the first bathroom break you had taken.

You looked at your surroundings. Although larger than your bathroom at home, it was still small, but thankfully clean. Well-appointed with soaps, shampoos, and other toiletries. The towels looked new. The door, you noticed, opened to the outside so there was no chance of barricading yourself in. There was no window. You quickly opened and shut all the drawers and doors in search of a weapon and found none.

Remembering the clock was ticking. You made use of the facilities then turned on the shower. You stepped into the claw-foot tub, closed the curtain, and let the water flow over you. The heat soothed your aching, exhausted body. Your fingers worked shampoo into a bubbly lather through your hair. A knock on the door, startled you, shampoo stung your eyes. You immediately flushed your eyes with clean water as they burned.

“15 minutes,” the man’s voice boomed through the door.

Not wanting him to catch you still in the shower. You quickly washed the rest of yourself when an idea flashed before your eyes. Maybe you did have a weapon.

Turning off the water and sliding the shower curtain to the side, you grabbed a towel and wrapped your hair in it, twisting it on top of your head. The other towel was wrapped around your body. A change of clothes had appeared on the counter next to the sink. When had he come in?

You slipped into the red tank top and blue boy shorts, wishing he had given you something more practical but thankful to have anything at all, grabbed a full bottle of shampoo, and waited. You heard the lock mechanisms flip. Watched the knob turn slowly.

The man was tall. And big. So big. He wore a black sweater and a black ski mask. You lifted the open bottle of shampoo and squeezed as hard as you could. He yelled and stumbled back leaving a path open to the other door as his hands covered his eyes. You ran for the door, ignoring the surroundings of the room you had been held in, grateful that it swung open when you pulled on it. You were in a hallway, doors were to your right and a staircase leading up to your left. You sprinted left wet hair falling from your towel.  You took them two at a time to reach another door at the top. That was where your luck ended. Locked.

You raced back down the steps, passed the door to you just left, turning knobs of the other three doors in the hall. Only one, the furthest, opened.  You entered, turned immediately to shut and lock the door catching a glimpse of the man exiting the first room. Spinning, you looked for any available exit. There were two small windows confirming you were in a basement. Climbing on top of boxes pushed against the walls, you search for a latch, anything, any way to open the window. There was nothing. You would have to break it.

The door slammed behind you. He was ramming it with his body. Frantically, you opened a box next to you trying to find an instrument to break the window. It was filled with books. Another slam on the door resonated through the room. You started banging on the window with your fists. Desperate.

The door seemed to explode with the force of your captor’s attacks. You toppled to ground, curling up in ball, your arms covering your head and face. Your bravery from a few minutes ago leaving you a quivering, cowering, puddle on the floor. There was no way out. This had probably been your one chance at escape on your own.

“What did I tell you about your behavior?” he asked with a sandpaper-over-gravel growl.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard his footprints approaching. One large hand tightened its grip around both of your wrists while his other looped the rope around them, securing them together once more. He hauled you over his shoulder in a movement so smooth you wondered if lifting you had made him exert any real effort.

“I want you to remember, that whatever happens next was your choice,” he said, walking you back to your room.

“You haven’t given me any choice, you psycho!” you snapped back, anger rising over your fear at his insinuation that all this was somehow your fault.

His palm met your backside in a resounding slap. “I told you there would be consequences for your behavior. You chose to run.” He carried you through the threshold, turning to secure the door behind him.

You glanced around the room surveying it for any future attempts. There were two small windows in this room as well. The rest of your surroundings surprised you. The bed was an antique looking wrought iron frame. The mattress was covered with light blue sheets and a dark blue and white patchwork quilt. A small side table with a lamp and a stack of books sat to the right of the bed. A book shelf filled with books and knick knacks. There were paintings on the wall. Abstracts in swirls and mixes of blues and greens and pinks. Your observations were halted when you were tossed onto the bed.

Panic arose fresh in your throat, bilious and bitter. You stared up at the man in the ski mask, his blood shot eyes glaring at you. A shocked squeal escaped your throat as his flipped you onto your stomach. He sat down next you and pulled you over his lap. You scrambled to crawl off his thighs, but he held you in place easily.

“You really want to make this harder on yourself?” he asked through gritted teeth. He leaned over you and anchored your wrists to the headboard again.

“No! Please, don’t!” you screamed as his hand pulled your shorts down to your knees.

“Two minutes.” He laid his left arm across your back, his right hand caressing the curves of your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. Please, stop. You don’t have to do this,” you pleaded unsure of what was about to happen to you.

His right hand came down hard on your ass. “You will be sorry, and you will learn.” His hand repeated its action, never landing in the exact spot more than twice. A series of yells and whimpers flowed from your mouth as a barrage of blows bombarded your backside.  

“One more minute,” he said without stopping.

It seemed as though time had slowed. Two minutes might as well be an eternity. Each spank stung more than the last. You would feel this tomorrow every time you moved.

Finally, you held your breath waiting for the next strike, but it didn’t come. Instead his hand ran over the aching area, in soothing tender strokes. You froze as you realized the sensations you felt were no longer pain and humiliation but a languid relief. His hand stopped their ministrations and pull your shorts back up. He stood, moving you to the mattress in the process. He reached into the nightstand. Pulling out a roll of bandages, he wrapped them around your stealing your sight once more.

“Why?” you managed to choke out. “Why me?”

“Because I could. Because I needed to.” He left the room, leaving you to your thoughts.

You laid there trying not to think of how good his touch felt to your aching body or about how your heart had raced and body responded to your punishment. It was wrong. You were obviously traumatized and not right in the head. You needed to escape. Needed to get out of here. But until then you needed to be smart and keep your head clear. Sleep would help with that. In no time at all, after the chaos of the day, you felt yourself drifting into sleep only to woken up some time later to the feeling of the mattress sinking beside you as he joined you in bed. Sleep remained elusive the rest of the night as you listened to his breathing and waited.

                                           *******************

The following day set the routine for the weeks that followed. You must have eventually fallen asleep because you were awoken to smell of breakfast. Growls emanated from your stomach as you realized you had no clue when your last meal was.

You were lead to the bathroom once again, untied, and given 15 minutes by the man in the ski mask. All the liquids had been removed from the bathroom. Only a bar of soap was left next to the sink.

He opened the door secured and blinded you once more. You thought you heard him take his mask off once you couldn’t see. Sitting on the bed you felt his fingers brush against your collar bone, you recoiled from his touch.

“It’s just a napkin. I’m tucking in a napkin,” he explained.

“If you let me feed myself, I wouldn’t need to wear one like a bib.” You couldn’t hold back your irritation at being treated like an invalid. The stranger chuckled. Something about his laugh reminded you of something you couldn’t quite place but mostly just annoyed you.

He fed you breakfast of pancakes with eggs and bacon, making drink a glass of milk with it. The gentle way he wiped your mouth with his fingers or the napkin made you uncomfortable. Like he was caressing you. Like he cared for you.

He left you alone the rest of the day only coming back when it was time for you to use the restroom again and bathe. Apparently, you had lost the privilege of showering alone. Donning his mask once more, he filled the tub for you with bubbly water. Ever the gentlemen abductor, he turned away as you undressed and sat in the tub. You pulled your knees to your chest, covering yourself with white suds, dreading what was about to happen, as he sat on the toilet seat lid next you holding a cup and a bucket full of the soaps and a loofah. He rolled up his sleeves and filled the cup with warm water.

“Cover your eyes.”

You did as you were told. He poured the water over you then squirted shampoo into his hand before massaging your scalp with his fingertips.

“I can wash myself,” you muttered, trying to ignore the how good his hands felt in your hair.

“I know you can, but what you can’t do is be trusted. You made that very clear.” He rubbed your temples causing your eyes to close as you unknowingly enjoyed the sensation. “My eyes still sting,” he added.

“I’m not going to try that again.”

“Probably not, but you’d try something else. It’s best we just eliminate that particular temptation.”

“Did you ever think I just don’t want you touching me?” You could feel your temper starting to flare.

He filled the cup with clean water from the sink and rinsed your hair. “I’m not concerned about what you want right now. I’m more concerned with what you need.” He added conditioner to your locks and used a wide tooth comb to start detangling it, working the conditioner through to the ends.

“What the hell do you know about what I need?” you snapped.

He grabbed your chin forcing you to look at him. “I know you need to watch your language.”

The flash of warning his eyes was enough to cow you for now. “Sorry.” You lowered your eyes, focusing on the bubbles floating in the water.

He rinsed your hair once more then clipped it up off of your shoulders. “I know you are upset right now. But this is for the best. You’ll see.” He poured soap onto the loofah and scrubbed your back. “Eventually.”

“So..what’s with ski mask? And the blind fold? Does it matter if I see your face? Are you planning on letting me go? Are you ugly? Is this a Phantom of the Opera thing? Where you splashed with acid or just born hideous?” The questions poured from your mouth. You needed something, anything to distract you from his bare hands that were massaging your shoulders, working the knots that came with being tied to a bed. You concentrated on not enjoying his fingers manipulating your muscles. Your lips bit back a moan, thighs pressed together trying to ignore the your growing need as he squeezed on either side of your neck releasing so much more tension than you realized you had.

He laughed at your questions but answered none and waited until you were on the verge of falling asleep to wash the rest of you, taking care to avoid your more intimate places. He let you dry and dress yourself before taking you back to the room and feeding you another meal by hand. He read to you from a book you had once owned until you drifted off to sleep. Sometime in the night, you once again realized he was sleeping next to you.

                                           *******************

All your days were spent laying and sitting on the bed. Trying to work your wrists free from the ropes, focusing on ways you could over power your captor, and fighting to not lose your mind. Failure on all three counts felt imminent. The routine was monotonous. You never saw his face. He rarely answered questions. You would have said you were bored if it had not been for the nights.

Nights had become far worse. He had been content to only sleep next to you for a few nights. Then he felt compelled to hold you as you pretended to sleep. No sooner had you started to let your guard down in his arms, you awoke with his hands between your thighs, fingers stroking your wet folds. You were paralyzed in horror, realizing that you were close, so close to orgasming. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

“No,” you shouted, trying to escape his hand’s ministrations.

“Shhhh,” he said. “This is happening regardless of your cooperation.” He used his thick thigh to pin your legs open, granting him easier access. His finger slid effortlessly into your pussy. “Just let me make you feel good.”

His words washed over you. Infuriating you and assuaging your guilt.  You didn’t want this and yet it had been so long since someone had touched you. Your brain battled your body for dominance. It mattered little who won since your captor seemed to know exactly how to make you come undone. His fingers pumped inside you while the base of his palm rubbed your clit in a slow steady rhythm. A flush spread across your body, heat coiled within you.

Your hips were trying to buck his hand away or take his fingers deeper, you couldn’t tell anymore. You wanted it to stop, but you wanted more. Your lips hurt from force of your teeth trying to hold in the moans building in your throat. His thumb began to circle your clit slowly, building in speed and pressure, until your muscles clench around his fingers, your back arched and you cried out as your orgasm rippled through your body leaving you panting and dazed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He draped his arm over your waist spooning behind you. Tears soaked your blindfold as your realized what just happened. How could you let him do that? How could you have enjoyed it? What was wrong with you? You didn’t have a choice. You couldn’t fight him with your arms tied. You probably couldn’t fight him with your arms freed. You couldn’t have stopped him. But you didn’t have to enjoy it though. An evil voice whispered in your mind, “That was the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Did you really want him to stop?” Too tired to argue your with yourself anymore, you forced yourself to try to sleep, to try to forget what had happened.

Every night after that he would bring you orgasm as many times as he could whether you wanted it or not. His hands cupped and massaged your breasts, pinching and tweaking your nipples in to hard peaks, fingers worked your pussy until it dripped with desire. Shame filled your soul as you recognized your body’s arousal whenever he was near you. The pleasure he brought you to was almost as intense as the guilt you felt afterwards. You knew you shouldn’t crave someone who had done such horrible things to you, but you couldn’t deny how good he made your body feel.  

Time lost all meaning for you. The worst thing you realized was that you had stopped thinking of a way out and just vaguely hoped someone would find you. You had no way of recording days that wouldn’t be seen by The Mask, as you started calling him. He refused to tell you his name or show you his face. You had no idea how long you had been missing when one day he did not put your blindfold back on after your bath. You looked around the room searching for anything to help you. You could at least see the knot on your wrists now tying you to the bed frame. You started tugging with your teeth. You heard a large commotion, like furniture crashing on the floor above you. You doubled your efforts. This might be the chance you had been waiting for.

The door to you bedroom opened with a loud slam. You ducked your head behind your hands to protect yourself from whatever or whoever was coming through that door. Your eyes blinked slowly in disbelief, sure the image you were seeing would disappear.

“Steve?” You choked back tears of relief as hope swelled through your body. “Steve! Oh my god! I hoped…dreamed you would find me.” You smiled broadly at him for the first time.

“You did?” he asked with shy grin.

“I did. Everyday. Please, Steve. You have to hurry. You have to save me.” You looked from him to rope securing you.

Steve took a step closer. “I already did.”

“What?”

He reached to his waist, untucking his shirt from his pants. “I saved you from a world that didn’t appreciate you. A world that took everything from you.” He lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. “And now, I’m going to give you everything.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-con/dub-con smut. Like a lot of it. Please don't read if this isn't your thing.

No. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

Steve Rogers had been your one source of hope since your kidnapping. You wished for him. Prayed for him to rescue you. Your mind often wandering to what could have been if you had let down your guard and returned his attentions…how none of this would have happened if you’d just let him in a little…pretending it was his hands that touched you in the night, bringing you pleasure until you were overcome with exhaustion. Your fantasy in your nightmare. Now they were one in the same.

The sound of Steve popping the button on his jeans brought you out of your thoughts as you watched them slide down his thighs hitting the floor around his ankles, his grey boxer briefs leaving little to your imagination. “No,” you said, shaking your head. “No, you’re supposed to be a good guy.” Your legs curled up against your chest, as if taking up less space would protect you from the man prowling towards you.

“I  _am_  a good guy. I’m going to show you just how good I can be…how good this could be.” He closed the distance between you. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He knelt on the bed, grasped your ankles, and tugged. You tried to resist, but were no match for his strength, and found yourself laying on the mattress, arms still tied above your head. He gripped your tank top, easily rending it in two, his eyes darkening as he drank in the sight of your exposed body. His body loomed over yours, his erection pressing into you.

Turning away from his kiss, he chuckled as his lips found your neck instead. He sucked and nipped at the delicate skin over your racing pulse. His kisses trailed over your collarbone to the valley between your breasts, taking time to savor each one in turn, his teeth grazing your nipples, hardening them into taut points. His beard tickled your abdomen as he made his way down to your panties, placing kisses over your cotton covered mound.

You tried to buck him off as his fingers slipped under your waistband and started pulling your last means of protection off your body. He was undeterred by your efforts as he eased them down your legs. Your eyes squeezed shut as your legs were spread.

“Please, don’t do this.” Your voice cracked as you felt his lips brush against your inner thigh. Your legs fought against the hands keeping them apart, but only managed to strain your muscles. You opened your mouth to protest once more, the words forgotten as his tongue swept through your slit.

A frustrated moan escaped your lips as your body immediately responded to his attentions, conditioned by countless nights of his touch. Warmth coiled inside you, skin tingling, arousal dripping. Worse still, instead of shame or regret, a small voice was stealing into your mind, tempting you…telling you, to give in…to let yourself enjoy it. Take what he offered.It didn’t have to mean anything.  Everything he had done so far had been for your pleasure, never his own. There was nothing you could do to stop this…to stop him…why torture yourself more than he ever had?

Your legs fell open, relishing the increased friction of his beard on your delicate folds as his tongue explored your body greedily. His thumbs stroked and spread your lips while he flicked your clit with his tongue before drawing it into his mouth, sucking gently. Your wrists strained against the ropes as your back arched against the mattress when his fingers entered you, stroking the spot he already knew so well. His mouth continuing to taste and tease. Sensations blurred, blending into one, building stronger, bringing you to new heights of ecstasy. Your muscles tensed as waves of pleasure passed through your body, time seemed to stand still. The intensity of your orgasm shook you to your core as you gasped for breath, panting while your body tried to recover. He didn’t give you much time before you felt it beginning once more.

Again and again, he brought you climax until sweat glistened on your body writhing beneath him, desire the only thought left. Barely registering his change of position, contented sighs turned to moans as he slowly thrust inside you, meeting no resistance, stretching and filling you, threatening to push you over the edge once more. He was so much more than you had ever experienced. His thrusts strong and demanding. His pace slow and steady at first, pressure building inside you with every increase in speed. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, his hand reached between you, his thumb circling your clit. As your final orgasm ripped through your body, you felt Steve’s thrusts become erratic. He fell to his elbows above you, his face buried in your neck as his cock pulsed inside you. He laid on top of you recovering from his own release for a few more minutes. By the time he rolled off of you, you were already fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

You awoke the next morning, confused and blinded by the bright light surrounding you. Rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, you realized for the first time you were no longer bound. You slowly blinked your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Sitting up slowly, you found yourself in a king-sized bed covered with a fluffy duvet. Sunlight shone through French doors leading to a balcony. The room itself had a tall armoire and an antique vanity with a three paneled mirror. Several shelves were filled with books. Framed black and white photos adorned the walls. It was lovely.

Throwing back the covers exposed your nude body. Quickly pulling the sheet around you, you tip-toed to the balcony doors wondering if you would be able to open them. A glance at the handles with a biometric lock told you all you needed to know. Short of stealing a finger, the doors wouldn’t open for anyone other than Steve. Through the windows you saw a large open lawn ending with tall trees in every direction and mountains in the distance. So different from the city scape you had grown up with.

You crossed the room slowly across the lush carpet, hoping not to alert Steve that you were awake. You needed some time to think. No, you were too confused to think. To consider your options. As if you really had any. To be alone. Alone was better than this, right?

Shaking your head, you turned your attention to the vanity before you. Silver handled combs, hairbrush, hand mirror, and perfume bottles with atomizers were arranged neatly. A cushioned stool was tucked underneath. It was a picture-perfect replica of a Hollywood Golden Age movie. All you needed was a feather-trimmed negligee. This was all insane.

You crossed the rest of the room, going through an open door that led to a large en-suite bathroom. It was much larger than the one you had been using. This one had a tub large enough for two, a walk-in shower with more shower nozzles than you thought possible, his and her sinks, water closet, and a massive closet.

Taking care of your needs quickly, you peeked inside the closet and immediately regretted it. The dresses on your side was gorgeous. More beautiful than anything you had owned. Elegant and sophisticated, yet simple and demure. The type of things you pinned and dreamed of in your free time. Right now, however, all you wanted was a sturdy pair of jeans and running shoes, but of course, those items were missing. Also missing, were modern undergarments. Panty hose, garter belts, and corsets were all you could find. No bras or panties. Pervert.

You rummaged through some drawers on his side of the closet, finding a pair of boxers and a white undershirt. You didn’t want Steve to think you were making an effort for him or that you were impressed with your new wardrobe. Delusional men did not need encouragement.

There was still one door in the bedroom you hadn’t tried. Sighing, you approached it, ready to accept defeat. Your hand froze as you felt the knob turn and the door open towards you. Glancing out, you found yourself looking onto a loft. Book shelves lined the wall next to you with cushy arm chairs creating a sitting area in the corner next to windows. A banister ran the length of the loft across from you, the smell of coffee and bacon wafting over the railings. You crept across the floor careful not to make a sound, ready to retreat if required. The view that greeted you was breathtaking. Two great walls of windows meeting at an angle with a stone fireplace in the center framed the nature beyond the panes beautifully. You’d never seen anything like it outside a nature documentary. Looking down, you saw large leather couches angled on either side of a solid wood coffee table facing the fireplace with a tv mounted above the mantle.

Your stomach growled at the scent of food and sound of tinkering coming from a kitchen somewhere down below. Taking the stairs to the left, you went in search of food. You walked through the living room and saw the kitchen to the right with Steve wearing nothing but plaid pajama pants whisking something in a large bowl. He turned and called your name smiling. Your stomach tightened and suddenly, a swirl of emotions filled your mind. Was it fear, hatred, or excitement you felt? Everything seemed to weave itself together creating an infinite knot with no clear beginning or end. All you were left with was confusion.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” you replied. “Umm…where are we?”

“My cabin. Tony built it for me. Said I needed a place to unwind.”

Encouraged by his quick, easy answer, you let yourself ask another question. “How long have I been here?”

He paused and looked at you for a second. “Almost 2 months.”

“No one’s looking for me?” He shook his head no, pity shining out from his blue eyes. It hurt. You had known it must be true for a while, but to actually be told that no one care what happened to you caused a deep bitter pain.

Entering the kitchen, Steve lifted you onto the island. His large hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in, but you managed to turn away before his lips met yours.

“Someday,” he said, “you won’t turn away from me. And I’ve got all the time in the world.” He busied himself in the kitchen, cooking and talking around you. He poured a yellow mixture in a large greased pan. “I think it’s time we talk about some basic house rules. The first, you will listen to me, and do as I say.” Seeing the petulant look on your face he added, “No arguing.”

You crossed your arms but bit your tongue.

“My job is to take care of you. Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you are allowed to do it. Your outfit is cute. I like seeing you wear my clothes, but I would prefer to pick out what you wear. Bathing, grooming, feeding—“

“I can feed myself,” you interrupted. You weren’t a doll. You were a grown woman who had taken care of herself just fine.

A hand reached out a smacked the side of your thigh. “I haven’t even finished listing the rules, and you’re already breaking them. I will take care of you and all your needs. Final rule, no leaving the house.”

“What? No rules about talking to people?” you asked.

“I don’t appreciate your tone. I didn’t need to add a rule because there is no way to contact anyone here except my phone which only I can unlock.”

“What happens if you have to save the world? You just going to leave me here alone?”

“I’ll leave that to Tony and the others. Seems like the world is adjusting to the new order of things. And I, for one, would like to try and enjoy some peace and quiet. With you.”

He set a large plate with an omelet and bacon strips on the island next to you. He cut a piece off using the side of the fork. Turning your head, you protested. “I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat,” he pushed firmly. He lifted the fork, presenting it to you once more. You pushed at his hand. “Now,” he commanded.

“No!” You swiped at the plate, sending to floor, hearing it shatter on impact. You grappled with the hand still holding the fork before a sickening crack filled the air as you realized you had slapped Steve across the face. The fury in his eyes, the same anger you had seen behind the mask your first day here, sent a chill through your body. His hand grabbed you, pulling you off the island. “Three minutes,” was all he said. You tried to dig your heals into the floor, slap his hand off your wrist, before finally biting his arm in an attempt to free yourself. “Five minutes.”

You were pulled to the living room and pushed over the edge of the couch before your realized what was coming. Two minutes had seemed an eternity the only other time you had been punished, and now you had earned five. You moved to stand, a hand between your shoulder blades held you in place.

“You wanna try for ten?” he asked.

Freezing in place, your boxers were ripped from your body. Without warning, his palm landed in the center of your right cheek. He peppered your ass with hard smacks. You couldn’t hold back the whimpers and yelps that escaped from your throat.

Anger coursed through your veins. Trying to keep your mind off your smarting flesh, you sorted through your feelings, but could only identify one. Hate. You hated him. Hated his rules and his punishments. Hated his stupid perfect face and his stupid perfect body. It was a crime that anyone could look the way he did. You hated the way his hands knew exactly how to touch you. How good it felt when he was inside you.  _No_ , you thought to yourself,  _Don’t think about that._

“Three more minutes,” he said, his hand never ceasing.

You were less than half way done. Your ass stung and ached with each new spank. You were sure you would bruise by tomorrow if he continued through the whole time allotment. Why had you slapped him?  _Because he kidnapped you…violated you. Treats you like a child. You are a grown woman…you don’t need him. That’s why you slapped him._  What had you honestly thought would come from it?

“One more minute.“

Tears formed in your eyes as your cheeks burned from the relentless slaps he issued. A small sob set the tears streaming down your face. This was all so unfair. You wouldn’t be able to sit for days all because you wanted to hold your own damn fork. Was it really so important? Was it worth all this? What was worse…a bruised ego or a bruised backside?

You were spared having to answer when you felt a gentle caress trailing up your inner thigh. Squeezing your legs together you managed to choke out a “no.”

Steve chuckled behind you. “Tell you what, if you aren’t wet, I’ll stop.” He spread your feet wider with a nudge from his own. Shame coiled in your stomach, knowing what he would find. His fingertips spread your folds and slid through your slit. “Honey, you are dripping.” His fingers were held out before you, glistening from your arousal. “I might have to think of another way to punish you,” he said, before licking his fingers clean.

You heard a rush of fabric as he shed his pants. Panicked, not wanting a repeat of last night, you pushed yourself up, trying to maneuver yourself to a position where escape was possible. His erection pressed against your hot abused cheeks as he leaned forward grasping your wrists and pulling them behind your back. You fell forward, turning your face before hitting the seat of the couch. Your toes curled and back arched as his cock thrust easily into your wet pussy eliciting a loud groan from his lips. You could feel your anger melting away with each snap of his hip. You didn’t want to think, to fight. It felt too good. His pace was as bruising as his punishment. He held your wrists with one hand, his other wrapped around your body, finding your clit. Your hips rolled as you tried to find a better angle. Just as you felt the pleasure start to build, his hand left your body.

A voice whispered in your ear, “Only good girls get to cum.” And the hand came down once more, slapping your stinging ass, a loud moan filled the room.

Frustration turned you into a mewling, keening mess. You were so close. Needed more. He knew it. His pace quickened until your muscles started tightening, then slowed again until you sobbed, “Please.”

He moaned in response to your plea, his hips thrusting hard and fast. His hands left your wrists and grabbed your ass, pressing into your tender flesh, spreading your cheeks. Your orgasm crashed through your body as a mix of pleasure and pain overwhelmed you. He let out a ferocious growl, fucking you as your pussy tightened around his cock, prolonging your climax. You felt his dick throb as he came inside you.

You felt your shirt pulled over your head and saw it fall to the floor, but couldn’t muster any emotion. No fear. No anger. Two arms picked you up, cradling you. Steve carried you to the kitchen and placed you naked on the island. You winced at the hard, cold stone pressing against your backside. His lips closed around your nipples, sucking at each in turn. Finally, he spread your legs. You could feel fluids seeping out and tried to close them, but a firm squeeze on your thighs stopped you.

“Stay here. Just like that. You look so beautiful with my cum coating that pretty little pussy.”

His words and gaze of appreciation made your stomach turn and your cunt clench with need. You sat there basking in your afterglow, watching him clean the omelet off the floor. He made you some toast with jam, feeding you every bite, rewarding you with praise and caresses. Finally, he brought a warm wet cloth to you and cleaned the evidence of your punishment from between your legs and carried you upstairs.

* * *

 

 “You’ve been such a good girl, you can pick the movie,” Steve said, handing you the remote.

For several days, you had managed to avoid another punishment. You didn’t fight when he fed you or bathed you. You deferred to his preferences when he gave you options to choose from for clothing then let him dress you almost always in sundresses. In short, you had been his living doll.

You tried to resist his advances, knowing it was futile. He was able to restrain you easily at the first sign of struggle. As soon as his hands were on you, your body became consumed with need, wanting nothing more than his touch. And, oh, did he know how to touch you.  

Your last means of rebellion was refraining from long conversations which he seemed hell bent on having. He told you all about his childhood and the world he grew up in while watching old movies or listening to recordings of his favorite radio programs. You tried not to be moved at the stories of a sickly boy who lost his parents or laugh at the stories he told of his old military friends. You supposed he had had enough time to look at those memories from 70 years with nostalgia instead of regret. You noticed he never spoke of the Avengers or Bucky Barnes. All of his inquiries into your life were met with succinct answers. You had no desire to dwell on the past.

You browsed classic movies for a minute before making your selection. Leaning back to relax on the couch, you were pulled, instead, to your usual perch on Steve’s lap.

“What’s Roman Holiday?” he asked.

“Um…it’s kind of like It Happened One Night,” you replied, settling on his lap so you could see the tv. It was getting so much easier to pretend to be good. Too easy. It was becoming harder to ignore how simple and peaceful life was with him. Shame filled your soul as you realized you were thinking of escape less and less. For the first time since your childhood, you would have felt safe, loved, cherished even, if you weren’t being held hostage.

You turned your mind from your disturbing thoughts to Audrey and Gregory exploring Rome. Paying attention to the film was not an easy task. Steve slipped a strap of your sundress off your shoulder, his lips trailing kisses over your skin. Your back stiffened, but dampness was already spreading between your legs. The zipper on your dress was slowly pulled down, a lone finger traced your spine raising goosebumps, making you shiver. You crossed your arms as the other strap slid down your shoulder. He wrapped his arms around you, gently laying you across the couch. Your hands pushed on his chest as he hovered above you. Closing your eyes, you twisted your face away from him. You felt him fumbling for his fly, pushing his pants down. He gripped your wrists pinning them above your head. As he pressed against you, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

A dark chuckle sounded above you. “Oh, you naughty little girl. Such a little hypocrite. Pretending like you don’t love how I make you feel…when we both know you really do. You only resist because you think you should not because you actually want to.”

Your eyes widen. No, that wasn’t true. Was it? You didn’t really enjoy any of this. Did you?

“You melt every time I restrain you, and that gives you a nice little out from any guilt or responsibility, doesn’t it?” He sat up, dragging you with him until you straddled his lap.  “It’s time you admit that you want this…that you want me.”

You shook your head as his hands hitched up your skirt. Grabbing your hips, he lifted you until you felt him positioned at your entrance. He pressed down on your hips, your body quivered as you took him into the hilt. His hands left your hips. Was he really making you choose?

You faltered as you looked into his blue eyes. He was waiting to see what you would do. A sly grin spread across his face. Glaring, you rolled your hips to lift yourself off of him, your clit rubbed against the base of his cock. Your head fell back, you rose a few inches and stopped. All you had to do was climb off his lap. You fell forward with a sudden thrust from Steve, your hands gripping his shoulders. His hands gripped the top of your dress and pushed down, exposing your breasts. He cupped your tits, squeezing the round globes, his lips sucking and pulling at your nipples. Your hips rolled searching for that delicious friction once more as your ground against him, pleasure intensifying when you found what you craved.

He hissed between gritted teeth and you rode him. “That’s it. Such a good girl.” His hand threaded through your hair and bringing you nose to nose. Your moans mingled in the small space between your lips. Closing the distance, you pressed your lips to his. Mouths opened, tongues twirled, as you increased the pace, working his entire length. You could feel your climax building, so close. You couldn’t stop now. Ending the kiss abruptly, fingernails digging into his shoulders, your mouth opened in a silent scream as your orgasm crashed through your body. His hands squeezed your hips as he thrust up chasing his own release. His body convulsed under you as he came with your name on his lips.

You laid against him for some time content in your afterglow yet, confused. What had you just done? How could you have done it?

Steve’s phone rang on the coffee table. He moved you to the seat next to him and reached for it. It was the first time you had heard it ring. Who was calling? Should you say something?

“Ok. I’ll be there in a minute,” he said and hung up. He turned to face you, smiling. Something I ordered for you just arrived. It’s down at the gate. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He fastened his pants and straightened his shirt before leaning down kissing your forehead.

You pulled your dress back up over your shoulders, zipping the back, and pulled down the skirt. Following his figure to the front door, you watched as he walked through and waited for the tale tell click of the lock. It didn’t come.

You reached the door in a few seconds, your hand reaching for the handle. It opened. You could see Steve in the distance on the long dirt driveway. If you ran towards the trees, there was a chance of you being able to hide and reach the fence before he noticed. You wish you had shoes, but there wasn’t time. Taking off at a sprint, you made your way to the tree line. Praying he didn’t see you.

 

* * *

 

But he had seen you. No sooner had you started running, you had heard him scream your name. He had caught up and found you easily. You should have known he would. Tears, still flowed down your face as you hid.

A strong hand seized your arm through the underbrush and yanked you out. Wincing at the bruising grip, you tried to ignore the pain as he pushed you against a nearby tree.

“Every time. Every time I think you’re seeing things the right way…” His icy blue eyes glared down at you sending chills down your spine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say thank you to everyone who has read and especially those who have left me comments. I appreciate it so much. Y'all are awesome. This has been such a fantastic ride and I am really proud of this story.

 

Bark bit into your back as Steve held you in place. You stared at your feet, caked in dirt mixed with the blood from the scrapes and scratches inflicted from the undergrowth of the woods. A hand gripped your chin, wrenching your head up, forcing you to face him.

“You’re never going to learn are you?” His voice was as cold as his gaze. You stared at the man before you, in the weeks you had been with him, you had never experienced the fury that radiated off him. “I thought we had finally moved passed all this. That you had finally realized what we had?”

“What about what I had before?” you whispered.

“Before? You had nothing. No one. You were barely making ends meet. Living off of scraps from that deli. What have you had worry about since I rescued you?”

“You! I’ve had to worry about you!” How could he not see that? How could he not comprehend what he had done to you?

His blue eyes widened. “Have I ever hurt you?” He raised his hand to silence you as your mouth opened to retort. “Have I ever been cruel to you?”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You tied me up and spanked me!”

“You tried to run and disobeyed my rules. You earned those punishments. I have never hurt you for the sake of cruelty.”

Tears slid down your cheeks. “You kidnapped me! You forced—”

“I rescued you. I saved you from a life of bitter loneliness. I have loved and cherished and worshiped you in every way possible. All I asked was that you let me take care of you.”

“You didn’t save me,” you said, shaking your head. “You aren’t a hero.”

His grip become more forceful, his fingers digging into you. “You’re right. I haven’t been a hero in years. But I did rescue you. Someday, you’ll thank me for it.”

Not caring if the tree tore your back to shreds, you struggled against his grip. “No, I won’t,” you said through gritted teeth.

He leaned in pressing against you. “Yes, you will. One day, we’ll be sitting on the front porch swing watching our children play, and you will realize just how lucky you are and how happy I made you.”

A shiver ran down your spine and your thighs clenched. You tried not to melt at the vision of domestic bliss coupled with the warmth of his breath as he nuzzled into your neck. Resistance was difficult as your body responded to his nearness, wanting to relax in his grip, wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, anything to make the familiar ache between your legs disappear. You pushed against his chest. “No!”

“Fine,” he growled. He grabbed your waist, threw you over his shoulder, and turned towards the cabin. “You won’t let me be your hero…I’ll be your villain instead.”

* * *

You remained silent as Steve carried you back to the house, a choice proven wise when he kicked down the front door. Instead of carrying you up the stairs as you had expected, he led you down to the basement where you had begun your stay. However, he passed the door that was once your room and opened the one across the hall.

A grunt escaped your lips as you were tossed onto a bare mattress. Without a word, Steve left the room. It mirrored your old one in size but was completely empty, save the bed you sat on. The door to the hallway was different though. This one had a small flap close to floor…too small to fit through. Did he have a pet at one time?

Your heartbeat finally slowed as the adrenaline high you rode subsided in the silence and solitude you found yourself in. What would happen when he came back? Would he beat you? Kill you? You’d never seen him so angry.

And so, you waited. Waited for him to return. Waited to discover your punishment. Consumed by your own thoughts. Playing out horrible scenarios in your head…whips and chains…what kind of depths of depravity would he sink to in his current state?

The sun sank low in the sky, darkness enveloping the room. You felt your way over to far wall and flipped the switch, temporarily blinding yourself. You paced the room, your anger boiling in your stomach. How dare he say those things to you? You had survived the loss of your parents and were thrust into a world you weren’t fully prepared for and survived. It wasn’t the life you had envisioned or the life your parents may have wanted but it was yours. He took that away.

Footsteps fell heavy on the stairs down the hall.  You turned to watch the door, staring at the knob waiting for it to turn. Instead the bottom of the door lifted on its hinge, and a tray of food was pushed through the opening. The footsteps retreated.

You rushed forward and banged on the door, yelling, “Let me out! Get back here, and let me out!” A frustrated scream ripped from your throat as you understood your punishment. You were in timeout. He designated an entire room dedicated treating you like a toddler in corner.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of anymore theatrics, you stopped hitting the door and slid to the floor. The tray of food caught your eye, gone were the home-made meals. A glass of water, spoon, and a bowl of canned noodle soup where all that was given to you. You made quick work of both. You kept the glass and pushed the tray back out into the hallway.

Crossing the room, you opened the door you knew would enter the bathroom. It had the bare necessities and not much else. A glimpse in the mirror startled you. Your hair had leaves and twigs stuck in it. Dirt streaked your face. Your arms were covered in scratches. You looked down at your tattered dress. A small tinge of regret fluttered across your mind. It had been a pretty dress and there was no saving it now.

You filled the glass with water and took another drink before clearing your hair of debris. With no clothes to change into, you stripped the dress off and washed it with a bar of soap in the sink letting it soak while you turned the shower on. No perfumed soaps and conditioners were to be found, just one bottle of all in one cleanser. Rinsing off and wrapping the only towel you could find around you, you hung your dress to dry on the shower curtain rod, and left the room.

Still damp you laid on the mattress. How long would he keep you down here? How long would your life be subjected to his whims? You rolled to your side you tightened the wet towel around you. It wasn’t comfortable and barely covered you, but it made you feel marginally less vulnerable.

You closed your eyes to try and sleep, but rest eluded you. For hours, you laid in bed, tossing and turning. You blamed the towel for making you cold, the lights for being too bright, the lack of pillow, but you knew the real reason. It was the first time in weeks, Steve’s arms weren’t wrapped around you. The rhythm of his breathing wasn’t lulling you to sleep. Before coming here, you had never known the warmth or comfort of someone holding you as you slept. And now, you were alone again.

The sun rose before you had been able to find any sleep. The ragged sundress in the bathroom was still damp, but your towel was at least dry now. You took care of your needs and returned to the empty bedroom. You heard the flap open and another tray was pushed in. This time you didn’t scream or yell, you just waited for his footsteps to disappear before picking up your breakfast of plain oatmeal. It was hard to swallow after years of brown sugary goodness.

Without anything to do, you started pacing once more. Veering your thoughts away from your alarming discovery last night. You concentrated on breathing and counting. When that failed, you ran through your times tables. Next was singing all the songs of your favorite musicals in order. Anything to keep your mind occupied, but sleep deprivation and isolation made it difficult. Finally, you got as comfortable as you could on the mattress, closed your eyes, and drifted off to sweet oblivion.

* * *

 

Days rolled by much as the first, no variations except for your own thoughts. Using your thumb nail, you started marking the days on the wall behind your mattress. In the two weeks, you had been down there Steve hadn’t spoken a single word to you. He did occasionally slip you clean clothes to wear and a new towel, but that was the extent to his hospitality.

This left you alone with your thoughts and, try as you might, you could no longer avoid them. Confused and angry, it took a long time for you to finally put a finger on the feelings overwhelming you, the emptiness you felt. You were lonely. You yearned for someone to talk to, to be with. It took longer still to recognize that this had been your constant state of being until Steve. He was right. You had had no one. No one at work could be called a real friend. You never went out, and even though you blamed money being tight, you wouldn’t have had anyone to go out with even if you had the means. Your last relationship ended well before the event. You had pushed everyone away after your parents disappeared in front of your eyes, never wanting to feel that loss again.

Part of you wondered if that was how Steve felt, losing Bucky in WWII, waking up 70 years in the future when most of his comrades were elderly or dead, fighting aliens then friends, and finally, failing to save them, watching them disintegrate the way your parents had. How lost had he felt? How solitary? You didn’t want to think of the burden he carried with the mantel of Captain America. You didn’t want to think of the skinny kid from Brooklyn who just wanted to do what’s right. And you definitely, didn’t want to think that the thing that drove him to this point was your inability to open up to people.

It had been so easy to think of Steve as a hero and then as your villain, good and bad. However, now it was easier to blur the lines between the two. What he did to you was bad. But did it negate all the good he had done? Did wanting you and taking you make him a bad person if that was the worst of his actions. As he pointed out, he had never been cruel to you. Never physically hurt you. You never would have been spanked if you had followed the rules. Your actions had been the only source of your punishments. He would have been nothing but kind and caring otherwise.

You couldn’t believe you were actually defending him. But the more you thought about it, the easier it became. All you did was think of him. You couldn’t even escape him in your dreams. Every night fantasies of Steve’s mouth exploring your body, his thick cock thrusting in your wet pussy, his hand slapping your ass before his fingers spread your lips and circled your clit, had you waking up in the morning with your hands pressed between your legs, panties soaked, throbbing with need. Nothing you did could satisfy you the way Steve had. Your body craved the release only he had ever brought you.

Your stomach growled as another sensation consumed you. Hunger. You hadn’t realized how often you used to go hungry until weeks of full meals had been taken from you. Again, he was right. You lived off of the scraps you could get from the deli, off of food that was no longer fit to serve others. After two weeks of oatmeal for breakfast, a plain sandwich for lunch, and soup for dinner, you missed the home cooked meals you knew he made especially for you. So much thought and preparation must have gone into those meals.

The pride you had previously felt at surviving on your own had soured, knowing now that surviving was not the same as living. You lived fully when your parents were alive. You were loved and loved them in return. You were safe and knew where your place was in the world. Could you actually find that here?

Laying on the mattress, you stared at the ceiling. Waiting. Knowing with the dipping of the sunlight that you would hear the familiar sounds of Steve coming down the stairs to bring you your food. You rose and walked towards the door, sliding down the wall until you sat next to flap that would soon flip.

“Steve,” you said, as soon as you saw it lift. The tray paused. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, as tears filled your eyes and coated your throat. The tray was pushed in and the opening closed. Sobs wracked your body. There would be no reconciliation. He would not forgive you. Your last chance of happiness was gone, all because you were to scared to accept him months ago. You would live the rest of your days in a basement, alone.

Crawling back to the mattress, you pulled yourself up, curled into the fetal position and wept. Why had this become your life? What had you done to deserve this? It must have been something very wrong. If only you could go back. Smiled at Steve when he spoke to you. Accepted his invitations to dinner. Acted happy when the two of you bumped into each other. Everything could have happened organically. He wouldn’t have had to force you to see the ugly truths in your life, to see that you needed him.

Foregoing dinner that night and breakfast the next morning, the only time you left your bed was to use the restroom. After skipping lunch and another dinner, those trips became few and far between and almost non-existent the next day without intaking any food off of any of the trays that had been delivered.

You couldn’t feel the hunger anymore. You just felt tired. There were no more tears to cry. All you could do was lay there and hope it would be over soon. You couldn’t take a lifetime of this.  In and out of sleep, you dreamt of Steve coming to you, wrapping his arms around you and taking you away from this room.

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he’d say, as he carried you upstairs to the beautiful room you shared together.

“I’m so sor—”

“Shhhh. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

It felt so real. So good to be in his arms again. To feel his strength surrounding you. To know that nothing would harm you, so long as he was with you. Such a beautiful dream, you never wanted to wake up.

* * *

 

A warm heaviness covered you like a weighted blanket. Opening your eyes slowly, you saw Steve’s torso laid across your legs, his sleeping head on your lap, while the rest of him sat in a chair next to the bed. A needle was taped into your arm, plastic tubing leading to a saline drip hanging next to the bed. You were back in the bedroom you shared with Steve. Sunlight streaming through the windows. Everything as it was before. You tried not to move for fear of waking him, but hours, possibly days, of lying still made staying motionless impossible.

His head raised, fists rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Wrinkles in the covers had created lines across his chiseled cheeks. “You’re awake,” he mumbled through a yawn. “You gave me quite a scare.”

Guilt turned your stomach. You picked at the covers with your fingers, staring at your hands to avoid his gaze as you asked quietly, “Do you hate me?”

His large strong hands enveloped yours, thumbs stroking your knuckles gently. “I could never hate you.”

You took a deep breath, fighting back tears. You voice shook as you asked, “Then why did you leave me alone for so long?”

“You needed time to think. To accept the truth and to come to a decision.”

A decision? What did that mean? You stared at him, confusion coursing through your brain.

He leaned back in his chair, dropping your hands to cross his arms. “Are you going to stay with me or go back?” he asked.

“You would let me leave?” Had he really just offered you your freedom?

He nodded. “If I thought that was what you really wanted.”

You stared at his face searching for any signs of deception. All you found was sadness…and fear. He was scared you would you go. You contemplating your choices and realized that having a choice made all the difference in the world.

You sat up a little straighter in bed. “I want to feed myself.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly before his eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Yes,” you countered.

He leaned forward, leaning his elbows in his knees. His hands clasped together under his chin. “Fine. But you lose that privilege when you’re sick or if you misbehave since we know spanking won’t be a deterrent.”

Warmth spread across your cheeks knowing he was right. You would try a lot harder to maintain some independence than to avoid being spanked.

“Any other demands? Bathing yourself?”

Your eyes dropped once more as you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I kinda liked the bathing.” You were loathed to admit it but hiding your desires seemed to be self-defeating at this point.

A smile spread slowly across Steve’s face. “I know you do.” Arrogance suited him. He removed the i.v. from your arm. “First things first. Let’s get you fed then we’ll clean you up.”

He walked you to the bathroom to take care of your needs after multiple bags of fluid then tucked you back in to bed with the orders not to move. He opened a drawer and pulled out a present. “I ordered this for you. I hope you like it.” Opening the box, you found a tablet device. Turning it on, you saw that it was preloaded with streaming apps, books, and a few games you had on your old phone. Everything else was on lock-down with parental controls and or disabled. You wondered if Tony Stark helped him, because you had seen him work a remote. He was a little hopeless.

You laid back on your pillows, scrolling through your many options, excited to have options again. He was back before you had even chosen anything with a tray of scrambled eggs and toast with some juice to drink. You let him feed you knowing soon you would be able to do it for yourself.

The tub was filled with warm water. The silky pajamas you wore were slipped off your body, kisses covering each newly exposed area of skin. The heat of the water soothed your aches and pains as you stepped in and sunk beneath the water. Steve took his shirt off and knelt behind you. He poured water over your head and massaged your scalp with fragrant shampoos. Hums of pleasure flowed freely from your throat as you allowed yourself to enjoy his touch. His hands lowered to your neck and shoulders, massaging and manipulating your muscles before slipping over your slick breasts, squeezing the soft mounds. Filled with need, your legs slowly fell open in anticipation.

“Tell me what you want. You want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice husky and deep, whispering in your ear.

“Yes.” Your eyes were closed, but you heard him move to side of the tub. His hand trailed from your knee to your thigh. “Please.”

His hand stopped. “Where?”

Frustrated, your eyebrows furrowed. Taking his hand you tried to lead him to what you wanted, but he pulled is hand away.

He chuckled darkly and clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “No. Use your words, little girl.”

You stammered, “I—I want you to touch…my…” Aroused and embarrassed, the words lodged themselves in your throat.

“Pussy? You want me to touch your pussy?” His hands dipped between your thighs, lightly brushing against your parted lips.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Say it,” he commanded.

“I want you to touch my pussy.” You arched as his fingers finally slid through your folds.  You need this. Needed his hands to give you what yours couldn’t. His thumb pressed and rubbed your clit in fluid motions while two fingers pumped inside of you. Your hands grasped the edge of the tub as your orgasm washed over you.

Rinsing you off, he pulled you to your feet wrapping a towel around you and helped you step out of the tub. You leaned forward, raising on your toes to kiss him. His hands tightened around your arms and held you back. “You need to rest. We have all the time in the world,” he said.

Pouting, you sat on the edge of the tub as he rang water from your hair. You felt heat gather between your legs once more as you noticed the sizable bulge in his grey sweatpants. Dropping the towel wrapped around your body, you sunk to your knees in front of him. You ran your mouth over the outline of his erection, feeling it twitch under the fabric. His body stiffened as you pulled the waistband down and took his cock into your mouth. His head fell back, moaning he gripped the towel rack to steady himself as your mouth slid up and down the length of his shaft, your hands running up his strong thighs until you cupped his sack taking the weight into your hands. You looked up at him as he groaned in pleasure and realized how powerful you actually were. Not many could render Captain America helpless.

Without warning, you stopped your ministrations, running to the bed and hid under the covers. The predatory gaze that followed made wetness pool between your legs.

“You’re being very naughty. Don’t think I won’t remember this later.”

You squealed as the covers were ripped off of you. Kneeling between your legs, he lifted your hips and plunged into you, the elevated angle making him somehow feel thicker, longer. It wasn’t long before you felt another climax building. “Touch yourself,” he said. You reached between your legs, your fingers circling your clit, speed increasing with the rhythm of his thrusts. It took little effort to send you over the edge once more.

He flipped you over with ease, entering you from behind, reaching deeper than before. “Again.” You immediately began touching yourself once more. Panting and arching, your free hand gripped the sheets as your whole body tensed, squeezing and tightening around Steve as he sped up his pace.

“Again.” His thrusts never slowed.

“I can’t,” you pleaded. Your body felt hot, a light mist of sweat clinging to your skin, all your limbs seemed in capable of movement, only instinct allowed your body to arch your back when he snapped his hips.

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head. “Yes, you can,” he growled over your shoulder. He reached one of his hands under you, finding your overly sensitive nub, rubbing it, kissing and nipping your shoulder. A scream ripped through the air, as your orgasm slammed into your body. Steve’s thrust became erratic, his dick pulsing, as he finished inside you.

He panted above you, recovering from the intensity of your combined release. He rolled over you, pulling you against him. Wrapped in each other’s arms, you appreciated for the first time the safety and warmth they provided.

“Steve?” you whispered.

“Mm-hmm?” he sighed groggily.

“Thank you for saving me.”

 

The End


End file.
